Quiet child, strain your ears and listen for the sound of her
Though I know you will not hear
For soon she will come on dark and silent wings to cloak the land in quiet shadow


When the sun grows weary and can no longer stay afloat, she will come
Then the wrens that sing in the willows will hush their songs and grow quiet and still
The frogs and the katydids, will summon her, singing her praises
And the evening breeze will whisper her name


The moon may rise in the heavens and struggle against her
But she will not be defeated nor relent


For some, she will bring the chance to dream, to reflect, and rest in peaceful slumber
While others dread her coming, cursed to once again wander through mazes of nightmare and regret

Quiet child, strain your ears and listen for the sound of her
Though I know, you will not hear  

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Rory Keene Hopkins is a writer and poet who resides in the backwoods of Kentucky.  He is currently working on a collection of stories titled, “Tales From the Dark Cabin.”

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